


Written in the Stars.

by cityofstarsss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bad Boy Louis, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Cigarettes, Fluff, I'll try to please you, Library, M/M, Mysterious Harry, Mysterious Louis, Nerd Harry, Nerd Louis, Summer, Yas, You Have Been Warned, both?, just give it a read, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityofstarsss/pseuds/cityofstarsss
Summary: Harry Styles is your average nineteen year old. He just finished his first year at University, and is currently working at a library over the summer. Good grades, good kid. At work one day, Harry smells something that certainly should not be in the library. A musky, dirty smell that he was sure came from a cigarette. That's when he comes across a smaller, but older lad, hiding behind a bookshelf perched on the floor with a cigarette in one hand, and a poetry novel in the other.





	1. Hot, summer day.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alwayslouis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayslouis/gifts).



> I'm not very good at summaries, hopefully it doesn't turn you off. I got inspired by a photo I saw on twitter I hope you all enjoyyyyyy. This entire series is dedicated to trish ((alwayslouis / @olivelwt on twitter)) whom is a little shit but also the cutest little nugget to ever walk this earth and I love her lots. This is for you, hope you enjoy it. xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this first chapter! let me know what you think so I know what I should change and etc. Enjoy! xx

Harry was sometimes told he was a bit of a nerd. Okay, that was an understatement. He was _always_ told he was a bit of a nerd. Perhaps it was because he was reciting _Hamlet_ at the age of nine, or because his night stand was actually built from a stack of books. He loved learning, loved reading, loved writing. The whole lot of it. So, when he graduated from high school, it only made sense to apply to the University of London for an English degree. So. He did just that.

 

First term went by in a blink, Christmas happened, second term went by, as well as his nineteenth birthday and now; here he was. Living in his own flat in London for the summer, and four  _long_ months to do nothing. He was a bit of a goody two shoes since he was young, so going out and partying like a lot of his fellow school mates was _not_ his idea of having a fun time. Instead, Harry decided to go on a hunt for a good old summer job to make some money and pass by the lengthy, annoying months. He ended up getting hired at an adorable little library just inside the city, and he _loved_ it. It wasn’t very busy unless it was a smoggy or rainy day in London – which was often, gratefully, but he didn’t mind the quiet days. He could spend a majority of the time leaning against the counter reading novels upon novels whilst his co-worker, Mary, a very sweet old lady who was just about to turn sixty-two, talked endlessly about her cat and ex husband. It wasn’t amazing, but it was the ideal summer job for him.

 

Harry wasn’t necessarily always very happy, but this was the life he was accustomed to. He discovered that he _may_ fancy men a little more than woman in tenth grade, where he stumbled upon some gay porn on the internet (not a big deal) and found it a little more intriguing than it usually should for a man. Then, he started to fancy the boys at his school – slowly beginning to see that okay, maybe he wasn’t straight. He came out to his parents shortly after and as always, they were incredibly supportive. Soon after coming out, he had his first boyfriend, Lucas (who was a bit of a dick, if he was being honest) and they broke up shortly after year eleven. Since then, Harry was a single man and proud. Besides, he had school work and his writing to focus on – right? Right.

 

 -

 

It was dreadfully, painfully, _awfully_ hot. The temperature was over the roof, and you could _smell_ the heat. It was muggy, humid, hot, sticky. Everything above. Of course, Harry was stuck working that day, and it was one of the worst possible days to be working. The shop was merely dead – nobody even hesitating on popping in since it was bloody one hundred degrees outside. Nasty.

 

Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, huffing out a dehydrated breath as he popped down from the shelf he was stepping up on to replace a book on the top of the case – stumbling back only slightly due to the loss of energy he had. His tan skin was glistening lightly with sweat, the short sleeves on his white t-shirt rolled up into a muscle top, jeans cuffed at the bottom to expose any inch of skin possible. Harry’s long curls were pushed back by a thin black headband, followed by an elastic that kept them in a proper bun to keep the ringlets back from his face.

 

“Harry? We got another box of donations, honey.” He could hear Mary’s delicate, all too sweet voice perk up from behind the shelf he was currently stocking, causing him to sigh in a sort of pain that clearly read ‘ _really?_ ’. But, he didn’t argue.

 

“Of course, Mary. I’ll come get them in five, yeah?” The younger boy assured, voice rather rugged and rasped from the lack of verbal use and well, he was dehydrated.

 

Harry finished filling up the next row of books, consisting of the letter ‘B’. Their shelves were all organized by the author’s last name, so it made things quite easy when it came to stocking. Unless there was two or more authors. Then good luck. Harry leaned up slightly to finish placing all the books in their rightful places before wheeling the cart back to their stockroom where citizens could donate their old books. They would look over them, ensure they weren’t too damaged, and then stock the shelves with them. Gratefully, the library was fairly busy each week, so they never struggled when it came to space for books.

 

Harry organized his next cart with the letters ‘H’, being sure to hydrate himself once more before heading back out into the awfully humid shop. Why didn’t they have air conditioning? That was the real question. It was muggy, gross. Sure, they had at least four different fans placed in various spots around the library, but that didn’t matter. Not even the littlest bit. It didn’t make a difference unless you were sat right in front of it.

 

Humming along to the soft indie music that cooed from the speakers in each corner of the building, Harry began unloading his second cart of books. There was at least fifty – and the shop was big. It was two stories, consisted of at least hundreds of shelves, and thousands of books. Personally, Harry loved it. Just not in the summer. _Definitely_ not in the summer.

 

Harry reached up to place the novel about _‘Toothpicks & Logos’_ on the shelf, until he smelt something. Something – _not_ right. It smelt of smoke at first, and he was suddenly concerned whether or not there was a fire. Shit, wouldn’t that be ironic? A fire in a library, made of wood, on the hottest day of the year? It was almost too unreal. Taking action, Harry climbed down from the shelf he was perched up on, and quickly sniffed around the corner, trying to see where the smell was coming from. Right away, he immediately knew it wasn’t legitimate smoke. Instead, it was cigarette smoke. Harry’s jaw clenched, fists balling up. How dare someone? In the library? Livid, Harry continued to sniff around, trying to identify which aisle the smell was coming from.

 

Harry approached the second to last aisle on the side of the room – peering around the corner to see if somebody was there. Long behold, there was. Harry’s brows furrowed, his gaze landing on a smaller, but likely older lad, sat on the ground behind the shelf wearing some cuffed, light blue jeans, converse high tops, a yellow t-shirt whilst holding a book consisting of various poems in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

 

What? How dare he. No, no, no.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

The figure looked up to meet eyes with Harry, whom was currently not in the mood at all for this nonsense in his library. Evidently, the stranger knew that, so Harry was immediately confused when the other latter suddenly flashed him a cheeky, cocky grin.

 

“Yes?” The stranger asked so innocently, carelessly taking another swig from his cigarette. The sight made Harry cringe with fury.

 

“What made you think it was okay to smoke inside of a library?” Harry asked more furiously, his already hot cheeks becoming even hotter – sweat trickling down the brink of his forehead.

 

The stranger laughed in the most charismatic way, flashing his gorgeous pearly white teeth and crinkles formed in the corners of his eyes. Fuck. He was gorgeous.

 

“Nothing. I felt like having a smoke.” The boy replied simply, eyeing Harry with a challenging gaze.

 

“We don’t allow ‘smoking’ in the library. No library does.” Harry snapped back, staying grounded on this. He may be hot as fuck, and he may think he’s funny, but Harry wasn’t budging. “It can be a risk of fire.. and bloody hell! It’s like one hundred degrees, what makes you think it would be okay to even do it in the first place?”

 

“Wow, curly. You’ve got to calm down.” The stranger chuckled, shaking his head as he reached over to put his cigarette out on a pin on the boy’s denim backpack. What a prick. “Did it ever occur to you maybe I’m doing it because I don’t care? You’re awfully defensive about the whole situation so quickly.” The boy shrugged.

 

Harry’s words got caught in the back of his throat, blood boiling now. Harry was sweating profusely now, the sticky feeling coating his already glistening skin as anger flushed his usually innocent features. “Excuse me? How dare you speak to me that way? I’m going to have to ask you to leave-“

 

“-have you read this before?” the stranger suddenly interrupted him, tossing the remaining cigarette into the trashcan before popping up from the ground. Harry quickly realized the size difference between them both, he seemed less intimidating this way – but he couldn’t be so quick to judge.

 

Taken aback by being interrupted, Harry’s gaze widened and his mouth was stuck in the shape of an ‘o’, shocked. “W-what?”

 

“Have you read this before? It’s got a nice quote in it. You might want to read it.” The smaller boy grinned, pressing the book against the taller lad’s chest. “What’s your name?”

 

What was wrong with this boy? How could he be so ignorant? Harry was furious – his gaze filled with fury and his words were scrambling to actually make up something, though it was barely working. “You can’t just… I asked you to leave.” Harry stated, more sternly this time.

 

The smaller boy rolled his eyes, raising a brow back at Harry. “You, love, need to have some more fun. Listen, I’m sorry for smoking in your store, yeah?” The boy stated, trying to negotiate now Harry gathered.

 

“You…” What was he supposed to say? The boy was strikingly gorgeous. Mischievous blue eyes, fluffy and caramel brown hair that was styled in almost the shape of a cinnamon bun – it was cute. He was cute. Harry blinked thrice before shaking his head with disbelief, glancing down for a moment. “My name is Harry… but hey, listen, you can’t just so accusing me of not having fun-“

 

“-are you denying it?” The boy interrupted again, arching a brow back at Harry before taking a step forward, staring back up at the curly haired boy with a playful grin. “I’m Louis. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Harry’s face suddenly fell, gaze pondering on the boy that stood inches from him, still having the book pressed against his chest. Harry moved his hand to take the book, swallowing hard before furrowing his brows. “I’m… I am, because it’s not true.” Harry insisted almost grumpily, glancing down at the book before furrowing his brows. “Love poems?” He could almost laugh.

 

“Yes. Love poems.” Louis said as if it were obvious. “It’s beautifully put together… It expresses possibility, adventure, _art_. It’s good.”

 

Harry thought for a moment, arching a brow as he looked back at Louis curiously. “You don’t seem like the poem type.” He stated quietly, still not wanting to admit to defeat.

 

“Didn’t know poems had a ‘type’.” The smaller lad fired back, smirking as he lifted his denim backpack from the floor.

 

“Fair.” Harry suddenly agreed, green eyes glancing back on the elder’s face, biting his bottom lip. “Listen… I’m sorry for being so.. intruding before, it’s just.. smoking in the library..”

 

“I know.” Louis laughed, grinning as he hooked the backpack strap over his shoulder, staring back up at the boy rather admirably. “I’m not sorry though.”

 

What? Harry’s brows furrowed again, folding his arms against his chest. “Then I’ll have to kick you out.” He stated simply.

 

“Fine.” Louis stated, arching a brow back at the younger lad as he beckoned his head towards the book in Harry’s hand. “Read it. Do you work every Monday?”

 

Harry was shocked – not expecting the boy to cave in so easily. Slowly nodding, Harry gripped the novel in his hands a little tighter, watching as Louis simply nodded in approval and walked past him with that same cheeky grin. Harry turned around to watch the boy, watching as the smaller lad simply walked all the way towards the exit and left as if it was so easy.

 

And for some weird, unexplained reason, Harry was looking forward to next Monday.  

 

 


	2. Next Monday.

It was Monday again.

 

The week dragged on. Consisting of more hot, dreadful days –  all of London wasn’t used to this heat. It was at least thirty five degrees all week. Today, again, was dreadful. Not thirty five, but thirty. Too hot. The only thing that kept him going was the slight idea that the blue eyed boy would enter the shop again. Mary had lectured him about making sure the boy didn’t enter the shop again, not at all impressed with the fact that he was bloody well smoking in the library. Yeah, Harry understood her reasoning, but that boy. He was something.

 

Harry ended up reading the book consisting of romantic poetry Louis had recommended and he wasn’t going to lie. It was beautiful. Harry was pretty intrigued by poetry in the first place, so reading that particular book, he was fascinated. The poems were composed and written with such passion and beauty by several different poets – all mushed into one book.  He didn’t even know they carried it either, which was rather odd. He knew merely every single book in that library and, well. There was _a lot_ of books.

 

“Harry?”

 

Mary’s voice perked up from what sounded like two rows down, and he sighed softly. That certain tone in that particular ‘I have a favour’ voice – he knew what was coming.

 

“Yes, Mary?” Harry asked, keeping his voice kind. Again, Harry had his black jeans cuffed, rolling stones t-shirt rolled into a muscle top, and his curls were held back with an elastic to avoid the strands from bothering him.

 

“Could you run cash for the rest of the day? My kitty has been having some stomach issues.. I’ve got to go home. We can finish stocking tomorrow.” Mary appeared from around the corner, her kind, aging features reminding him a lot of his nan.

 

“Of course. Don’t worry about me, yeah? I’ve got this.” Harry smiled, beckoning his hand towards the woman to leave.

 

“Oh thank you, Harry. You can close up early if you would like.. I don’t think we will have many other customers.” And she was right. They had two hours to go and the store was dead. It was all week due to the scorching weather. People were outside, spending time there instead.

 

“Possibly, yeah. Sounds good. Have a good night,” Harry waved over at the woman, exchanging warm smiles before she disappeared around the corner. The young boy made his way up to the front, rather relieved. It was exhausting stocking shelves in such heat. It was a little cooler up front anyways, since the door was usually perched open.

 

He wasn’t going to lie. As the hour passed, he was constantly looking over at the entrance – desperate for Louis to come in again. Why did he care so much? He shouldn’t. The lad was disrespectful and disobeyed the store’s policies. Plus, he didn’t even apologize.

 

The store usually closed about eight p.m, and it was seven-thirty. Harry’s gaze flickered at the door once more, scoffing quietly to himself. The boy wasn’t coming back, was he? Nope. Shaking his head, muttering nothings to himself, Harry reached down under the counter to retrieve the keys to close the shop.

 

“You talk to yourself?”

 

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice, a loud gasp coming from his taller body as he suddenly dropped the keys – the metal colliding with the wood flooring to cause a rather large clash.

 

“Shit – what? I.. No, I was just..” Harry blinked a few times, disbelief flooding him. Again.

 

“Calm down, curly. I just came to get my book back. Did you enjoy it?” Louis approached the counter, a skateboard in his right hand whilst another book was in his other. He propped his skateboard against the side of the counter, slamming the book against the table top.

 

“What? Your book? I thought this.. isn’t this the libraries book?” Harry’s expression was puzzled, leaning down to retrieve the keys from the floor, ignoring his other question.

 

“Nope. It’s mine.” Louis smirked, leaning his elbows on the counter to stare back at the younger latter, raising his brows.

 

“Wait.. So you were literally inside the library, smoking, _and_ reading your own book? Why didn’t you just sit outside? I’m…” Harry shook his head, folding his arms against his chest.

 

“Because I was getting burnt outside, and my mate, Zayn, was taking ages to come pick me up.” Louis shrugged, arching a brow back at the curly haired boy. “Tell me. Did you like the book?”

 

Harry’s eyes were piercing back at the older lad, pursing his lips into a fine line. The entire thing didn’t make sense to him. Not even the littlest bit. But, he was still intrigued. This boy was something different. “Yes, I did like it. It was mesmerizing.” He stated.

 

Louis raised his brows, a smug grin on his lips suddenly. “ _Mesmerizing?_ Well, Harold. That’s a fancy word.” He giggled. Bloody well _giggled_.

 

“But I agree. It’s nice. I like it because it reminds me of Romeo and Juliet.”

 

Harry scoffed quietly, ignoring his first remark. How dare he criticise his use of descriptive words. “Romeo and Juliet? That’s the most cliché thing ever.”

 

“But it’s also a story that raises attention to sacrifice, love, hate… It’s like a love story, but with a twist. Much like life.”

 

Harry suddenly smiled faintly at that. He was intelligent. As bad as it was, Harry assumed he wasn’t very book smart – judging by his attitude and striking personality. He was different. “Shakespeare was brilliant with creating stories with a twist.” Harry murmured, eyeing the book Louis sat down on the counter. “What’s this?”

 

Louis’ gaze flickered on the plain blue book he sat down on the counter, assuming that’s what the younger boy was referring to. “This? It’s my journal.” Louis stated, looking back at Harry before sliding it closer to himself – holding the book tight in his grip.

 

Harry nodded slightly, arching a brow at the boy. “You write?”

 

“I pretend I can write.” He corrected.

 

Harry pursed his lips again, slowly looking down at the keys in his hand. “Oh..” His voice trailed, taking in a soft breath before turning around and walking towards the table behind the counter – returning before the boy with his book. “Here. Thanks I guess, for letting me read it.” He murmured, offering a small smile. “I’m closing the shop up now, so..”

 

Louis took the book back, placing it overtop of his journal before raising a brow, leaning further across the countertop. “There is still twenty minutes left.” Louis stated, grinning as he beckoned his head towards the clock.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, dangling the keys in front of Louis’ face. “I’m allowed to close up early. But thanks for your concern.” Harry walked from behind the counter, passing Louis and started to walk towards the door. “And no skateboards inside, did you not read the sign?” The younger boy groaned, pointing at the handmade sign taped on the door. It read ‘ _no bikes, skateboards or strollers inside the shop’_ in black sharpie. Louis suddenly laughed.

 

“You need to let loose. You’re what? Eighteen?” The elder boy rolled his eyes, setting the skateboard on the ground now. The placed one of his feet on top of the board and the other slowly pushed himself towards Harry – stopping himself by placing one of his hands on the boy’s broad shoulder to stop himself. “Did that cause any harm?”

 

“Do you like pissing me off?” Harry suddenly snapped back, feeling rather flustered by the boy testing his patience. His heart did a triple backflip at the feeling of the boy’s hand on his shoulder – his fingers curling into the cotton of his t-shirt before the boy let go.

 

“You make it easy.” Louis replied simply, removing his hand.

 

“Well you’re not even supposed to be in here. You should leave.” Harry stated, opening the door slowly.

 

Louis reached to close it again, raising a testing brow back at Harry. “Why? What about if I said I’m sorry for smoking in your library?”

 

Harry shook his head, groaning quietly. “It’s too late for that.. Why are you so persistent?”

 

“Because maybe I think you’re cute.”

 

Harry’s cheeks felt hot. They were already pretty hot, but now they were _burning_. Who says that? Louis, apparently. Harry felt flustered. This boy was trouble. It was probably the worst possible thing Harry could get himself involved in. He had work, had to prepare for the school year.

 

He couldn’t say that though. He was feeling intrigued, ridiculously attracted. There was anticipation, mystery. _Gosh_. This was not going to end well.

 

Blushing like a twelve year old school boy, Harry shifted his weight on his left foot, biting his bottom lip nervously. His gaze flickered from the clock and back at the boy, gripping the door handle now. “Are you playing with me?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes, evidently fed up of all the ridiculous questions. “No. I’m being honest. Give me your phone,” the older boy nodded his head towards Harry’s pocket, arching a brow.

 

Harry bit his lip harder, merely piercing blood as he pulled his phone out from his pocket, unlocking the passcode before handing it over to Louis. Why was he listening to him?!

 

Louis handed back over his phone within a minute, a fit grin back on his lips. It was fricking attractive too. He could be a model – he wouldn’t be surprised if the boy actually was a model. He certainly did have the looks for it.

 

“There. I texted me. Why don’t we hang out on Friday, yeah? I can come after you’re done work.” Louis shrugged.

 

Harry’s words were caught in the back of his throat, feeling all jumbled and out of sorts. Bloody hell. He was whipped. 

 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I finish at seven on Friday,” Harry breathed, blinking a few times. Was this happening?

 

“Alright, Harold. Friday at seven it is.” Louis grinned, bending over to pick up his skateboard again, holding it under his arm now.

 

Harry didn’t say another word, and instead, opened the door for the boy – allowing him to leave. He watched Louis hop back onto his skateboard, and within an instant riding away.

 

What the hell did he just get himself into.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave feedback!! x


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